


Let's Make a Deal

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:36:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Sonny's alive.And there's a plea bargain.





	Let's Make a Deal

Frank was unsurprised to find Vince in ADA Bertram's office because that's where Bertram's secretary said he'd be. He was surprised to find him sitting behind Bertram's desk with his folded arms resting on the desk and his head resting on his arms.

"Get up from there," Frank ordered and Vince shifted his shoulders, arched his back, and complied. "You don't just sit behind a man's desk."

"You do when he's got the most comfortable chair and he keeps you cooling your heels to show you just how important he is," Vince said, but he got up. "I've been here over half an hour already and nobody's even offered me a cup of coffee."

"Will it lighten your heart if I get you some coffee?" Frank asked, turning to open the door.

"Flights of angels will sing me to my rest," Vince said, making Frank pause.

"I don't think that's what that means," he said.

Vince laughed. "It isn't."

The secretary told him the coffee machine was down the hall, and she was right, there was a coffee machine there all right, with a big sign taped to it, the words OUT OF ORDER big enough to read from outer space. Frank tried the next floor up and discovered that while that machine apparently worked, it was out of coffee, probably because everyone had been coming up just the way he had.

So he went up two more floors where he found a machine that not only worked but still had coffee to sell and he bought two, even remembering that Vince liked a lot of sugar in his.

Back in Bertram's office, Frank found Vince was now sitting in an admittedly less-comfortable visitor's chair and the ADA had finally arrived and had he been telling jokes? Because Vince was bent over in his chair, laughing fit to bust.

"What's going on?"

"Frank, can I hit this guy?" Vinnie gasped out. There was a weird note of high glee in his voice.

"No," Frank said automatically. "I don't think so," he amended. "Why?"

"Agent McPike," Bertram began, but Vince overrode him.

"OK, pal, I'm not going to hit you, but you better sit down." He looked at Frank. "You, too."

"What's going on?" Frank repeated.

"Agent McPike," Bertram began again, his voice tight, but Vince just rode right over him again. "Did you know Sonny did two years at City College and he audited some pre law classes? Because you know what? He's not stupid, he knew what line of work he was going into, and he wanted to be prepared for guys like you."

"What's this all about?" Frank interrupted. He set the coffee on the edge of Bertram's desk.

"I have no idea!" Bertram exclaimed. "Your man here—"

"Shut up," Vince said, and he didn't sound angry but he got up from his chair and kind of loomed over Bertram, who was glowering now. "Tell my boss here what you just told me. And, seriously, Frank, you better sit down."

"Is something wrong with the case?" Frank asked, not sitting. If they'd gone through all this for nothing, Frank might just let Vince hit Bertram. In the meantime, "Vince, you sit down."

"Fine." Vince sat.

"There's nothing wrong with the case," Bertram said smoothly and Vince gave a laugh that didn't exactly seem amused. "We have a deal in place that I believe everyone will be happy with."

"Everybody," Vince said meaningfully to Frank.

"What's the matter?" Frank asked. He was going to keep asking this question in one form or another until somebody goddamned answered him and if that wasn't soon, maybe he'd hit somebody.

"Tell him the deal you made!" Vince ordered Bertram. "You're gonna love this Frank, and really, you need to sit down."

Frank sat down and gave Bertram his attention.

Bertram took a deep breath. "After long negotiations with Mr. Steelgrave and Mr. Ketchell, we have hammered out a very—satisfactory plea deal. Agent Terranova's cover will be kept intact and Steelgrave will serve three years—"

"Did you say—" Frank began.

"Eligible for parole in eighteen months," Bertram finished.

Vince was laughing again. And, no, he didn't sound happy.

Frank didn't even know where to start. "Eighteen months? Eighteen—we have a videotape of him committing premeditated murder with his bare hands!"

"It wasn't his bare hands," Vince put in. "He had a wire." His laughter had died.

"You gave a known member of La Cosa Nostra eighteen months for murder? Why didn't you just slap his hand and send him to bed without supper?"

Bertram was beginning to look angry, something Frank had never seen before. The man was a notoriously cold fish. "I don't owe you an explanation," he said, his enunciation icy.

"You'll give us one or your boss will," Frank said. "And you might as well start practicing it because I know he's going to want one himself, when he hears about this."

"This is a terrible case," Bertram said.

"With the evidence we brought you?" Frank demanded.

"It all hinges on Agent Terranova, which presents us with two problems. First, I was told that keeping Agent Terranova's cover intact was top priority, which means putting him on the stand is out of the question. Second, we have the issue of Agent Terranova's character and reliability--"

"Oh, really?" Vince asked.

"Yes," Bertram said, walked around, and took the comfortable chair behind his desk. "Mr. Steelgrave had no interest in a plea bargain, as Mr. Ketchell seemed quite sure he could tear Agent Terranova's testimony apart on the witness stand—"

"Tear it apart how?" Vince asked. "I'm just curious."

"There seems to be quite a bit of evidence of you participating in unlawful activities, of you being Mr. Steelgrave's accessory."

"We discussed all that at the time," Frank said. "There are times when an agent has no alternative but to break the law, but there was nothing that stepped over the line," He looked at Vince, who was shaking his head.

"So I'm untrustworthy," Vinnie said. "And the videotape? What did he say about that?"

"The problem, again, is you would have to testify to, among other things, that Paul Patrice was planning to kill Mr. Steelgrave," Bertram said. "The problem is, Mr. Patrice is not here to speak for himself which makes painting a sympathetic portrait of him is--problematic."

"You got a better shot with him dead than you would if he was alive," Vince said. "You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Mr. Steelgrave was quite willing--anxious, in fact--for a trial, but with the possibility of conviction in question, and it seemed inadvisable to ruin Agent Terranova's usefulness as an agent."

"Sonny told you that, didn't he?" Vinnie asked. "He told you he wanted to go to trial?"

"I told you, his attorney is anxious to get you on the witness stand," Bertram said severely.

Vince met Frank's eyes and burst out laughing again.

Frank pushed up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head had begun to throb. "Anxious to get him on the witness stand," Frank repeated. Vince just laughed harder. "Stop that!"

Vince, doubling over again, gave him the finger.

"This is the most unprofessional behavior I have ever seen," Bertram said.

"I couldn't agree more," Frank said. "Has everyone who needs to signed off on this marvelous plea bargain of yours?"

"Everything is in place," Bertram said with great satisfaction.

Vince tried to say something, but all that came out was a squeak and then he was down again.

"Wonderful. So you let Steelgrave and his lawyer bluff you into this sweetheart deal and now you sit there like Mr. Smart Guy. He played you liked a cheap harmonica! Vince, what's the last thing Steelgrave wants?"

"For me to testify in open court," Vince got out. He was sobering up.

"Because the last thing he wants anyone to know is that he had a federal agent in his employ because if they did, there'd be a contract on him in before you can say 'protective custody.' And we don't have protective custody good enough to keep him safe--"

"And he knows it," Vince put in.

"That's ridiculous," Bertram insisted. "You weren't there."

"I was there when he put a gun in Patrice's hand and told him to shoot him in the head because he'd rather die like a man than have Patrice take over his territory. He was very serious," Vince said. "He told you that I was a liar, that he could prove it, and that he not only couldn't wait to see me on the stand, he couldn't wait to get there himself. True or false?"

"Yes," Bertram agreed, "that's true, but--"

"Do you remember reading in Steelgrave's file that he bluffs?" Frank asked. "That the more dangerous the situation is, the more likely he is to bluff? I know it's in there, I put it in there myself when Vince told me! Did you even read the files?"

"There is no reason for you to speak to me like that," Bertram said.

"There's no reason for either of us to speak to you at all!" Frank said. "And, no, Vince, you can't hit him," he added before Vince could ask again, "because I'm going to hit him."

*

"You should've at least let me let the air out of his tires," Vince said.

"I don't understand," Frank said. He was giving Vince a lift to the subway. Neither of them had hit Bertram.

"Understand what? We're victims of the bureaucracy and I want to get even."

"No, what I don't understand is what you're so upset about. I thought you wanted Steelgrave to get light time."

"No," Vince said.

"That wasn't a yes or no question."

"That wasn't a question at all, Frank, and I wasn't giving you an answer. What I'm saying no to is you trying to talk to me about my personal feelings about Sonny. You had your chance--you had multiple chances--back during the investigation, when I needed to talk about it, when I tried to talk about it. And every time you shut me down with, 'You're getting too emotionally involved' or 'Don't make me pull you off this case.' Well, the case is closed, the plea bargain's been signed, they've turned out the lights and locked the doors and everybody's gone home. My personal feelings about Sonny are no longer relevant to my work life and you have forfeited any right to probe them, so you can just butt the hell out." Frank noticed his hands were shaking as he pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He didn't tell him not to light up. "If you're asking why I'm pissed, it's because I think eighteen months for murder is crazy and Bertram's an incompetent and Daryl's even worse."

Frank couldn't argue with anything Vince had said; he wished he could, at least the part about himself. "Well, he won't be doing it again. I'm calling the AG in the morning and giving him a rundown on what's happened."

"Great. And I'm going to visit Sonny."

"What?" Frank slammed his foot on the brake, as though Vince's words were a sudden obstruction in the road.

"Jesus, Frank, don't kill us both." He looked down at Frank's right hand, which had shot out automatically in the instinctive parental protective gesture, as though he could have kept Vince from going through the windshield.

"Sorry," Frank said, taking his hand from Vince's chest. "You're doing what?"

"Sonny's getting out in eighteen months. I think it would be really great if I has some idea if I was going to disappear in nineteen months. His plea agreement only says he won't blow my cover, it doesn't say he won't kill me."

"Do you really think that's a possibility?" Frank asked. He was trying to downplay this because he felt stupid for not having thought of it himself.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him since we all got rounded up at the country club. On the one hand, he's gotta be pissed at me for everything, but on the other hand, he's walking away with a sweetheart deal. He'll probably want to gloat. I want to give him the opportunity, it'll make it easier for him to forgive and forget."

"I know it's none of my business, but how do you feel about it?" He'd almost said, "about him," but had backed off at the last moment.

Vince rolled down his window and lit his cigarette. "I don't know. That's another reason I want to see him."

This was not a satisfactory answer, but Frank had no idea what to say. "Be careful."

"He's in prison, Frank. The most he can do is say mean things to me on a telephone. He can't even yell at me or the guard will take him back to his cell."

"I know, Vince," Frank said. "But be careful anyway."

Vinnie took a drag on his cigarette. "I will, Frank."


End file.
